And Everything Nice
by Ethos
Summary: Out of all the jobs Dean's done, this was definitely the most difficult. Post-series set of one and two-shots.
1. Ghosts of the Past

Disclaimer: No, I don't own anything. Sorry folks.

Author's Note: Ok, so this is my first foray into Supernatural, so be forewarned. This is going to be a collection of short pieces, so expect more. :D

A cry broke the night. Green eyes flashed open. A calloused hand reached under the pillow instinctively, gripping tightly onto the .45 that was hidden there. Then he paused. No, the gun wouldn't be any use here. Lead, silver, salt; none of it could solve this problem. It was all a waste when there was no one to shoot. So he lay there in bed, wondering what he should do as the cry continued to ring out.

He shouldn't be like this, he knew. He was usually more on top of things, especially when faced with something that had haunted his sleep for months now. Dispite his best effort though, he remained helpless. Shifting uncomfortably, he stopped when a hand touched his arm.

"I'll take care of it," came a whisper from beside him. Dean nodded, too self conscious to speak or sigh. His eyes strained, just barely making out the shadow that slipped out of the bed and into the hall. After a moment, there was silence. The older Winchester brother sighed at last and rolled over, trying to go back to sleep. He couldn't. The silence was dragging on, almost unnaturally now. He felt his skin tighten and the hair prickle on the back of his neck. Any moment now... any moment he'd hear some confirmation that everything was alright, or see the shadow slip back into his doorway.

Nothing.

Memories he'd long thought buried came unbidden back to his mind. He tried to shake them off, to tell himself that all that was in the past now. He'd faced that demon. Still, logic holds little sway in those small hours of the night, and he found himself slipping out of bed, .45 in hand.

The hallway was dark and empty. The floorboards creaked beneath his feet, a testament to the age of the house. Still, his eyes were trained on a a doorway where the faintest touch of light slipped out. He slowed as he came to the corner, trying to find the balance between being prepared and moving casually, then he rounded the corner.

Instantly, he slipped the gun into his waistband and out of view, then crossed his arms in front of him and leaned in the doorway. After all, there was only one shadow in the room. "How is she?" he asked, his voice taking on that silky smoothness he'd used at bars.

"She's just fine, Dean," a woman's voice replied out of the darkness. "Honey, I told you I'd take care of it."

"I know." Dean shrugged, even though it wouldn't be seen.

There was a pause. "You were thinking about Kansas again, weren't you?"

"Nah," he lied, "I just wanted to see my ladies." Walking forward, he gave the woman a playful kiss, then stooped down to give the bundle in her arms a careful peck on the forehead. He stood up and moved back to the doorway, but before he left he turned, giving his wife a grin and a two-fingered salute. "I'll be sleeping."


	2. Uncle Sam's Books

Disclaimer: No, I don't own anything. Sorry folks.

Author's Note: Honestly, this is my least-favorite chapter of the three that I have written for this set. It just didn't want to come. It's straddling somewhere between comedy and family fluff, but can't really seem to find a home. I revised it a bit, but I can't seem to get all the bugs out. Oh well.

* * *

Nicole Kidman walked into the room, then stopped and glared at her daughter. "I thought I told you not to play on the floor," she chastised the girl. Slowly, ever so slowly, the girl turned, and instead of looking into her child's eyes, Nicole found herself looking at an old woman. She screamed.

Dean nearly had the breath knocked out of him as he was tackled from the side. Arms reached around him, constricting him. It was a death grip. If it had been anyone else, he would have tried to pry his way out of it, but instead he simply reached out and stroked his wife's hair. "Can't believe this stuff scares you," he laughed. "It's a joke." His laughter stopped as he was punched in the ribs.

"Oh, stop it!" his wife complained. "You ruin every single scary movie we watch!"

"What? I can't help it. Sammy would have a fit if he watched this stuff. Go on for days about 'factual errors' or whatever."

"Yeah, well... some of us don't have as much first-hand experience as you two."

"Honestly. I don't see why you watch these movies. Life's scary enough without this."

She sighed and rolled her eyes.

"Alright. Alright. I'm sorry. We can watch your movie now."

"Good."

She picked up the remote to rewind the last few minutes, and Dean leaned over to steal a kiss.

"Daddy?"

The two adults stopped what they were doing and twisted themselves to see over the back of the couch and into the hallway. There stood their daughter; cute as a button in her fuzzy-toed pajamas. Still, it didn't take the parents long to realize something was wrong.

"What is it sweetie?" her mother asked.

"There's a monster in my room."

Dean exchanged a glance with his wife.

"Katy, it's nothing. There aren't any monsters in your room. Go back to bed," the mother said.

Dean cut her off with a look. "I'll check it out," he said with a sigh and hauled himself off the couch.

Wearily, he trailed the little girl up the stairs and into a room that was all but pulsing with light. Apparently, she'd turned on every light she had, from her flashlight to her My Little Pony's glow-action. He couldn't keep a corner of his mouth from rising into a lopsided grin. Children.

"Alright. Where is it and what is it?"

"It was a jinn," the little girl said, with an amazing amount of authority. "And it's in my closet."

"Katy, have you been reading Uncle Sam's books again?"

Folding her hands behind her back and standing in something uncannily resembling attention, she seemed to wilt, then she nodded her head.

"How many times do I have to tell you to stop doing that?"

"I'm sorry, Daddy."

"Well, apparently you didn't get to the 'where' part, because it says that they do not live in closets. Especially closets that belong to princesses who have knights watching out for them. You know why?" He bent down so that he could talk to her at eye level. "Because this knight takes care of his princess, and he'd personally rip their limbs off and shove them-"

A loud cough came from the doorway, and Dean turned to see his wife standing there, arms crossed.

"- in the corner for a very long timeout," he finished.

Katy giggled mischievously. She was a smart girl, she could guess where her father had really been going... or at least that he'd been going someplace Mommy didn't like. She was a smart kid, got that from him. Well... alright, so maybe she got that from her mother or Uncle Sam, but she definitely got her good looks from him.

Tousling her hair, he signaled her to jump into bed and tucked her back in with a kiss on her forehead. Then he switched most of the lights off, and went back down to finish the movie.

"Daddy," Katy called after him. Dean turned and leaned back so that he could peer around the doorframe at her. "I'm still scared. Jamie's mom says monsters aren't real. Is she right?"

Dean sighed. Somehow he felt like he was telling his daughter that Santa didn't exist, except that, in this case, the bad news was that he did. But how could he lie to his daughter of all people? And how could he ignore everything that his life had taught him? Still, he had the feeling that neither of the girls in his life would appreciate it if he gave her a straight answer, so instead, he walked back into her room. "You're really scared?"

"Uh-huh."

"Ok, I'll be right back."

Going into his bedroom closet, he grabbed the sawed-off shotgun and chambered a rock-salt round, then he slipped a knife into his belt. Going into the office, he still couldn't believe he actually had one, he grabbed the rolling chair and dragged it behind him. When he walked back into Katy's room, he was a hunter again. Shoving the chair beside her bed, he sat down and cradled the shotgun in his lab.

"What are you doing, Daddy?" his little girl asked.

"Watching out for you."

"You're really going to stay here?"

"All night."

He got a hug and a sloppy kiss for his efforts, then the girl snuggled into her sheets and went out like a lightbulb. Still, while Dean had never been a stickler for honesty, he'd never been one to slack off on a job like this. As the hours dragged on, his eyes got heavy.

When he opened his eyes again, the sun was peeking through her pink curtains and he had the worst imaginable crick in his neck.


	3. Boyfriends and Demons Part 1

Disclaimer: No, I don't own anything. Sorry folks.

Author's Note: Ok, this one's a little more light-hearted than the others. Oh, and it's a TBC chapter. Sorry, it just seemed like it needed to be broken in half.

* * *

Dean lifted the suitcase onto the scale and watched as the airport staff stuck stickers on it and dropped it onto a black conveyor belt. "Thanks, Honey," the tall, blonde woman standing next to him said. "Well, now I've just got to go through security. You've seen me off... now you should all head home."

"Ok," Dean replied, though there was an unmistakable light of worry in his eyes. "Be careful. I still wish we'd just driven there."

"Dean, I promise you; the plane won't crash."

"It better not." With that he swung in for a quick goodbye kiss. "See you soon."

"Mom!" whined a young brunet woman from behind them. "You promised!"

The elder woman nodded and gave a pointed look at Dean. "Katy's going on a date tonight," she said. It came out more as an order than as an announcement. "And you're going to let her go."

Dean laughed. "Funny. Love ya! See ya!"

"No. I mean it Dean. A nice boy from school asked her out and I've given her my permission."

"She's too young!"

"She's seventeen! Most girls her age have been going out on dates for years now."

"Most girls her age don't have me for a father!"

"Dean, she's going. I may not be a hunter, but if I found out you kept her home, I'll skin you alive and pin your hide up in the shed out back. Alright?"

"Whatever."

"I mean it, Dean. Promise me."

"Alright."

"You're lying."

"...alright. Fine. She can go."

"Good." She gave him a pat on the cheek. "Now you guys go home. I'll give you a call when I land."

Quickly, she finished her goodbyes, even sparing a hug for Sam who'd been loitering behind his brother's family, and then stepped around a bend, into a security line, and out of sight.

--

"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you, Daddy!" the girl said, hugging her father around the headrest.

Dean patted her arm and took a deep breath, willing control over himself. "So, who is this guy? He's some fugly dude, right? Got his waistband up to his armpits, wears plaid shirts, captain of the chess club... no wait, that's my brother..." He quickly showed his skill at dodging a slap while staying between the lines on the road. Like always, Sam was riding shotgun.

"No, Dad," his daughter sighed, rolling her eyes.

"So he's a dreamy nerd in the chess club?"

"No, he's the quarterback."

Dean turned around in his seat. "You mean your dating a freakin' jock?"

"Dean, eyes on the road!" Sam cut in.

Obediently, Dean turned back around, but he was still shaking his head, muttering something incomprehensible about jocks. Sam was grinning. Oh well, he'd kill him later... after he wasted this jock dude.

"I still don't see why you want to date anyway. I mean, guys are gross. They've got cooties."

"Dad, I'm not seven. Guys don't have cooties anymore."

A barking laugh came from the driver's seat. "Yeah, that's just what you think. Just wait until he's got you slurping purple-nurples and he's asking you if you've got any friends..."

"Dad!"

"Dean, didn't you-"

"Shut it, Sam!" Dean cast a simmering glare at his brother, who was all-too-innocently looking at the landscape outside his window. He took another breath. Keeping calm was becoming a challenge.

"Dad, you promised!" Katy whimpered from the back seat.

"That's right, and I'm a man of my word." Laughter from the passenger seat. Another glare at Sam. "Fine, your mother scares the h-heck out of me when she's ticked, and that's just what she'd be if I kept you home. So you're going out, alright, but we're gonna do this my way. Ok?" Now Sam was biting his lip and giving him that darned awful mischievous look. Obviously, the man was near to bursting with laughter.

**TBC**


	4. Boyfriends and Demons Part 2

Disclaimer: No, I don't own anything. Sorry folks.

Author's Note: Well, this is the last of it. I hope ya'll enjoy.

* * *

"Ok, so what's this dude's name?" Dean asked as he paced across the carpet.

Katy watched him from her chair. "Robby Collins."

"Robby? You got that, Sam?"

"Yeah," Sam sighed and began typing on his laptop. "... one parking ticket, three speeding tickets... that's it. He's lived in two states and worked at Hastings for the past month and a half. That's all I got."

"That settles it, you're not driving with him."

"Dad! Come on!"

"Dean..."

"What! What is it, Sam?"

"She rides with you... do you want me to pull up your record?"

A crooked grin crossed Dean's face. "Which one?"

Sam snorted.

"Ok, fine. So this dude isn't a terrorist or a druggy. Still doesn't mean he's a saint."

"Mom-"

"Hush!" Dean cut his daughter off with the wave of his hand. "So here's how this is going to work. You're going to go out and say hi to him, then you're going to bring him in here. Then, you are going to get your little butt up those stairs and stay up there until I tell you to come down... got it?"

The girl crossed her arms and glared up at him. "Fine."

"I'm sorry? Didn't quite make that out..."

"I said, 'yes, Sir'."

"That's what I thought. Now go on and finish getting ready."

"Daddy... just don't kill him... please?"

"I'll try not to, Sweetheart," he said softly, ruffling her hair. "Now go on."

They watched as the young woman trotted up the stares and waited until the door shut and running water could be heard.

"Sam. I'm going to kill you."

"No you're not," his younger brother replied. "Dean, she's just going out on a date. It's not like he's an axe murderer or anything-"

"-that we know of."

"Dean... honestly, is there any way that he could be worse than you?"

"That's exactly what I'm worried about. Do you realize what a creep I was? Sam, I know exactly what these dudes are thinking!" he growled, stabbing a finger toward the window, as if the boy was already standing outside. "That's why they're not going to get anywhere near my Katy."

"Not every guy is like that," Sam sighed and shook his head. Taking his coat off the hanger, he shoved his arm into one of the sleeves.

"No, you weren't, but you were the chess club type, not the high school quarterback jock type."

"And you were...?"

"Sam... what are you doing?"

The younger brother straightened his coat, grabbed his keys, and reached for the doorknob. "I'm going home."

"Why?" Dean asked it like Sam had said that he was going to run away and join the circus.

"...because," Sam began, giving his brother an odd look. "... my family expected me home about twenty minutes ago."

"So you're just going to leave?"

"Uh... yeah."

"Sam. You came to make sure that I wouldn't freak out when my wife got on a plane. Do you realize how much scarier this is for me?"

"Fine, Dean. What am I supposed to tell my wife? Huh? My brother's freaking out over his daughter's first date so I can't make it to our special dinner out on the town?"

"No! 'Course not!"

"What then?"

"Lie to her... like we always used to."

"Dean..."

"Fine! Tell her we're going demon hunting again. Ain't that far from the truth."

Sam studied his older brother for a long moment, before slowly nodding. "You know... I think you're right. I'm going to borrow your phone for a minute..."

"Sure, go ahead."

Sam walked off and for a long moment, Dean was allowed to be alone with his thoughts. It was dangerous thing. Finally, Sam came walking back in, shaking his head. "Dean, do you realize how scary it is when you tell your wife that you're going to have to miss your date to keep your brother from killing someone and she believes you?"

"Ha! She knows me well."

"Dean, I have to say, you scare me sometimes."

"Right back at you."

"So... what now?"

"We wait for the little punk to come along and we threaten him with a bit of brimstone and hellfire." Bending down, he pulled a six-inch knife out of his boot, then, reaching into his waistband, he pulled out his .45. "Sam, can you get my shotgun? It's upstairs leaning on my nightstand." Shaking his head, Sam began to run up the stairs. "Oh, and my cleaning kit is in the closet on the right. Grab that too while you're at it."

A few minutes later, the younger Winchester came pounding back down the steps, arms loaded with an arsenal of weapons. "Hey, hope you don't mind, but I grabbed the .22 in your closet. Figured I should have something to wave menacingly too."

"So much for that pacifist crap, eh Sammy?" said Dean.

Sam simply narrowed his eyes at his brother. "Since when-"

"Come on over and have a seat. I'm thinking I'll leave the .45 for when he walks in, but you can get started on the others, I think I've let this knife get dull. Oh, could you grab a couple beers out of the fridge first?"

As if reading his mind, Sam returned, not only with two beers, but with a bag of tortilla chips and a jar of cheese dip. Then he plunked down on the couch beside his brother.

"Darn, I knew it was a good idea to keep you around today." With that Dean dean scooped a gob of fake cheese onto a chip and shoveled it into his mouth. Then he rubbed his hands on his jeans before continuing with his work.

"Dean, look at this. Guns, knives, snacks, and beer. He's going to think we're redneck yahoos getting ready to field dress him."

"Sam." Dean waved the knife unconsciously. "That's kind of the whole point. Anyway, you're the one who brought food in here... not me." He shoved another chip into his mouth.

"I'm missing dinner because of this. Dean... this gun is cleaner than the day that it was made. When's the last time you did this?"

"Yesterday."

"You still do it every day?"

"Yep. Old habits, Sam. Anyway, I'm not about to get taken off guard now that I'm retired."

Sam just shook his head.

"What's that? Sounds like he's coming!" With that, Dean leaned so that he could see out the window. Sure enough, a teenage boy had pulled up in his mustang convertible and was now laying on the horn. A look passed between the brothers, but no words. Any idiot who came up blaring a horn wasn't going to last long around the Winchesters.

"Coming!" Katy shouted and sprang down the stairs. Her father did a double-take when he saw her, and would have demanded that she march right up there and put something decent on, but she was already out the door.

"Did you see that?" Dean whispered to his brother.

"Relax, Dean, she's as covered as she can be without wearing sweats. There's no crime in looking pretty for a date."

"You should know."

"Wha-"

"Hush... they're saying something..."

Together, the two men quieted and strained their ears for the sounds outside. Only bits and pieces made it all the way to the couch, but there was enough.

"Did you hear that?" Dean growled. "He just dissed my baby!"

"Dean, that car's been through a lot, and he's got a nice set of wheels. Go easy on him."

A muttered response was all Sam received.

Finally, the two teenagers walked through the door. "So, this is my dad, and that's my uncle. Dad, this is Robby," Katy said, gesturing to each person in turn. Then she took a seat in one of the upholstered chairs across the way from the couch. Her eyes ran over the assorted weapons on the coffee table, and she shot a long-suffering look at her father, but she didn't say a word.

"Hey, Dean," the boy replied and took the remaining chair in the room.

Dean raised an eyebrow at that, but simply gave a smile. Only Sam and Katy knew him well enough to recognize the extra teeth he was showing. "You can call me 'Mr. Winchester'."

"Sure thing."

Sam looked from the boy to his brother and back again, before clearing his throat. "So," he said, breaking the silence. "You're taking Katy out on a date?"

"Yeah."

"Yes," Dean corrected. Once again, he got surprised looks from his family members, but he ignored them. "So, where you heading to?"

"Movies. The theater's showing a comedy that looks pretty good."

"Better not be a drive-in."

Sam coughed rather loudly.

"No, Mr.. It's just the usual; Junior Mints and all," the boy replied, seemingly unperturbed by the men sitting across from him or the guns on the table.

"Anything else?"

"Well, I was thinking we'd stop by and grab some real food on the way. Other than that, no."

"Sounds like fun," Dean droned out. Then he glanced over at Katy. "Katy, would you mind showing Sam where he can get some decent grub? He missed dinner."

Something akin to horror crossed the girl's face. "Dad, Sam knows-"

"Katy, now. I'm sure it won't take more than ten or fifteen minutes."

A moment passed without anything happening, but finally Katy climbed to her feet and walked into the kitchen. Sam followed, but only after giving his brother one of those silent signals they had. One that let Dean know that his younger brother understood where all this was going, and while he didn't approve, he'd play along. At long last, the teenager and the father were left alone in the room.

Looking down at the table, Dean picked up his .45 and began dismantling it for cleaning. It took about ten seconds flat. Then he picked up a brush and set to work, cleaning each individual part. For a long while, he let silence hang over the room.

"You know how to clean a gun?" Dean asked absently as he cooly went about his work.

Predictably, the kid responded by shaking his head.

"Not surprised. Too many pansies walking around getting pedicures. Well, you gotta keep them good and clean. Otherwise they could jam on you, and you won't be able to shoot whatever your aiming at." Dean had never learned to be subtle about threats. Silence followed. "Anyway, here's how this is going to work. I promised that girl's mother that she'd go on this date tonight, and that's just what she's going to do." He finished cleaning the gun and began putting it back together. "But here's the thing; if you harm one hair on that girl's head, or if I get a bad vibe off of you, or if my brother gets a bad vibe off of you, I'm going to fill you so full of lead that you'll sink strait to the bottom of whatever lake I dump your body in. Got it?" He slapped the magazine into place.

"Yes, Sir," came the slightly less-cocky response.

"Good. Now what time are you planning on having her back?"

"After the movie... so about 11:30... Sir."

"Have her home by 22:30... that's 10:30 p.m. for you. Do we understand each other?" He pulled back the slide and let it snap back into place, chambering a round.

"Uh... yes, Sir."

There was a moment of tension, then Dean set the .45 on the table, shot the boy a beaming grin, and slapped him on the shoulder. "That's good. Katy, come on back! You're late for your date!"

At once Katy and Sam burst into the room. By the redness of the girl's ear and the dark glares she was shooting him, Dean figured she'd been eavesdropping on their little man-to-man. His suspicions were confirmed when she turned to Robby and sighed, saying, "Don't worry Robby. He won't actually kill you. He's just over-protective and likes to talk tough. Come on, let's go."

"I wouldn't be too sure of that..." Dean warned, but they were out the door and out of the driveway in a flash. She was obviously none too happy about her father's performance tonight.

"She doesn't know you very well... does she?" Sam asked as he sat down beside his brother and picked up his beer. A nice thick sandwich was in his other hand.

Dean shrugged. "She wasn't around for the hunting."

"Dean, don't you think you might have gone a little harsh on the boy?"

"Heck, no! Punks like that need to be put in their place. I mean, did you hear that guy? The dude's a scum bag. No doubt about it."

"Yeah, but... 'fill you full of lead' 'dump in a lake'? He could sick the cops on you for that."

"Sam... all that we've been through, and you think a few cops are going to make me be good?"

"Right. Well... football's on tonight..."

"Fine. Get the game going. I'll put my gear up and be back in a bit."

"Wait! Are we drinking for the scores?"

"Sam! I'm ashamed of you! We're married men now. Can't go be that irresponsible. Twenty bucks says Steelers win."

"You're on."


End file.
